Cosy in the Rocket E
by singlemaltscotch
Summary: SEASON 9: EPISODE 2 Sneak Peek: The plane crash turned many lives upside down. The doctors try to leave the past behind and to focus on the future.
1. 9x01 Regarding Death and Dying part1

**PLOT. **This FF starts were season 8 left off. There will be three-part episodes. Lexie Grey is dead but certainly not forgotten in this story. I love her character and I thought about this for some time but after looking around a bit it felt like there were already too many "Lexie did not die"-stories out there. However, there will be one character brought back from the dead and a few adjustments will have to be made for that - but don't worry, it won't be too confusing. Plus, some familiar faces will return and with some I mean four. I might have to let go of other characters but I won't know for certain until I get there. If I have to, there's always a chance that they'll return.

**NOTE. **This is me practicing my English skills.I'm from Austria (no NOT Australia, we don't have kangaroos). This means that English is NOT my first language. Be prepared for possible mistakes in grammar and vocabulary - I deeply apologise for all of them. Feel free to correct - I'm here to improve! If you like this story and you feel like you could/want to BETA it, I'd be delighted to hear from you as I do believe that I might need some help to improve the reading flow. I hope my writing is not too embarrassing (feeling a bit insecure here)!

* * *

**9.01 Regarding Death and Dying (1/3)**  
(named after a song by Dan Mangan)

**Sneak Peek**  
_Meredith, Derek, Mark, Arizona and Cristina are still fighting for their lives _  
_while the others are trying to cope with the news of the crash._

* * *

She had been standing there, in passing, for a while now, frozen in her entrance into the room. She wore everyday clothes on her slender body and her blonde hair loosely up and out of her worried face. Her two hands held onto a brown cardboard box that she had filled up to the brim with her belongings that she had found in her locker in the changing room. She was ready to finally turn her back on Seattle and to begin a new life; a life without her best friend, without her best resident and without the ghost of her deceased husband. She was ready. She had, struggling with tears and with herself, decided that it was right and it was good to start anew. But now that she wanted to, Teddy Altman was suddenly not so sure anymore whether she could just go.

"Owen?", she said his name not for the first time. Again the desired reaction did not occur and although Teddy had, as a doctor, retained courage and composure in many impossible situations before, panic was now slowly tightening its grip around her conscious mind. "What does this mean? What do we know? Owen? Owen!"

But Owen did not hear her. He was not there anymore, not really. Indeed, his body was still sat on a chair and bent across the table but Owen Hunt was not really there. Missing did not mean dead. This was the only thought he was able to hold onto. Missing meant missing. The major sensed that he had to act but he was yet too far gone. His Cristina. Cristina. Cristina. Suddenly he could not remember how to breathe. His heart was beating so fast and wild against his chest that he was certain he would lose it. His head was humming with her name. Everything and nothing hurt. He closed his eyes. He wanted to go back.

Meanwhile Teddy had come up to him. He scared her. She set the box aside on the table and considered grabbing her colleague with her now unoccupied hands and shaking him awake – but she decided against it. Instead, she took the telephone receiver and dialed.

* * *

„I spy with my little eye something that is black", Meredith Grey made herself very clear.

„Tree", returned Cristina Yang with little enthusiasm in her voice. Then, not awaiting an answer, she continued rather monotonous and almost a bit annoyed. „I spy with my little eye something that is . . . yelloworangered." She emphasised this last spoken word with an indifferent motion of her right hand as if she actually intended to instantly shoo it away again.

„Fire", was the undoubtedly correct answer. „And I spy with my little eye something that is . . ."

„Black", was Meredith impatiently interrupted before she could end her sentence. „Tree."

„Hey!", the protest was not particularly strong or loud but it was a protest.

„What?", Cristina simply shrugged her shoulders, however, she graciously deigned to clarify her behaviour more specifically. „You're not really that good. It's always black and it's always tree."

„That is not . . .", attempted Meredith a further protest just before she changed her mind and defiantly pronounced a daring proposition. „That is true but you're not any better with your . . . your fire." She pulled the heavy blanket a little closer around her shoulders. It was definitely too cold.

„I am better", Cristina was sure of it. She detected a scrawny branch lying beside her on the moss-grown ground, picked it up and led it into the sizzling embers. "I'm always better."

After that the twisted sisters lapsed into a frustrating silence. They had known each other for too long for Dr. Grey to dare challenging her friend to a conversational duel. Instead she moved a little closer to Cristina, offering a quiet olive branch. They were both miserably freezing despite sitting closely to the fire, yet, they did not want to complain about it because, first, the hospital of death had taught them to be tough and, second, they could consider themselves the lucky ones when taking their fellow sufferers into consideration. With that last thought in mind Meredith's searching glance instinctively found to Derek who was lying on a bed of leaves and jackets just a few steps away from them. She had earlier pulled his blanket up to his chin. She had planted a kiss on his surprisingly hot brow and had assured him that he could rest for a moment now. She looked at his bandaged hand that was lying at his chest. Then she thought of Zola. Then of Lexie. Tears suddenly blocked her clear view as she felt the pain she had actually shoved far away coming back to her. She needed distraction. Now.

„OK, new game!", announced Meredith to her friend while she was wiping her fingers as inconspicuously as possible across her cheeks until they were dry again. The tone of her voice was amazingly firm and destined. „Truth or dare."

„Not now, Mere", the suggestion met bare opposition. The woman sitting next to Dr. Grey had problems set in her own world of thought and feeling and every single one of them was determined by Owen Hunt and seemed to be closely linked to the motto of this new request to play.

The blonde, however, was not deterred. She put on her cross look and sounded like it as she urgently brought her wish forth again. „Truth or dare."

Cristina looked up in surprise and weighed her chances to escape her friend with a good excuse. They did not weigh much. Her head was too full for any kind of creativity and, furthermore, it was not advisable to put a good fire seat at an unnecessary risk. She, consequently, decided, with obvious reluctance, to take on the lesser of the two evils and murmured a quick „truth", because she would definitely not be getting up and climbing a tree one-armed.

* * *

Crap. This was crap. Alex Karev was angry. He was not angry at something or someone in particular, or at least he could, in right this moment, not place his finger on any person or thing, but he was angry. He and his colleagues had, after the initiate shock and the absurd assumption that it was all just a specially bad and distasteful joke, gotten up from the table in the restaurant in order to follow Richard Webber outside into the cool night while thinking millions of thoughts. They had in greatest haste betaken themselves to their cars and had possibly been driving a little bit too fast to the hospital where they now could be found in the changing room. As practiced for years they put on their blue working clothes and the pagers at their right place. They said nothing as they tried to find a balance with their own panic. This silence was, apart from the inevitable banging of the doors, only interrupted by April Kepner.

The redhead was loudly sobbing while standing in front of her unopened locker unable to ensue the doing of the others. She wore a pretty dress, a pretty hairdo and black paths on her face where the tears had taken the mascara away from her lashes and down her cheeks. To her left Jackson threw his gown over his shoulders and just took a decision to come up to her, and, saying a few calming words, put his arms around her shaking body. He himself longed for something or someone to hold onto, for, although he showed composure on the outside, a relentless storm was raging inside of him. The actual execution of his intention, however, was defeated by a storm of a completely different kind.

„Shut up!", hissed Alex whose patience had snapped fast and sudden as he thought to have found a random target for his anger. With a wild look on his face he took one step closer to April who, anxiously, drew back and immediately shed her tears in silence. „Just shut up already! Do you believe you're helping anyone with your wining?"

„Hey!", Jackson thwarted his colleague without hesitation. He had hit him once before and he would do it again should the circumstances require it from him.

Said circumstances, however, took a sudden turn as the door to the changing room was pushed open. Newly sobbing April rushed outside of the room and passed Dr. Bailey who had entered the scenery. Miranda looked on in surprise but composed herself quickly. She now gave her undivided attention to the two young men starring at each other under the eager eyes of a few bystanders. Both seemed to be ready to attack their respective opponent at any moment with their fiercely clenched fists. That perspective was clearly something that Bailey did not want to witness at her hospital, nor could she tolerate it.

She demanded, without further ceremony, an explanation: „What is going on? Aren't you two supposed to be at dinner with Dr. Webber?" Her anger was obvious as an answer was not instantly given: „Now, let us be clear about that: Dr. Webber has been planning this dinner for a long time; and when I say long, I really mean very long. Very long and very thoroughly. If you're telling me now that you're ditching this dinner because of some. . ."

„Haven't you heard about it?", interposed Jackson who had conceded his defeat and turned away from Alex and to his superior. His eyes were dull and sad, his voice of and exhausted tone. On every other day no-one would have ever dared to interrupt Miranda Bailey but today was not every other day.

* * *

Richard Webber had not been yearning for a drink so heavily in a long time. The hospital seemed to house a much bigger chaos than he had been used to. Nothing was really like it was actually supposed to be. Three of his top-surgeons and the same number of very promising residents had fallen from the sky and had vanished without a trace. No, Richard quickly corrected himself in thought, this was not his staff anymore but Dr. Hunt's. Nevertheless, it was his Meredith who had gone missing as well and thinking about her hurt and worried him very much. In the next moment he saw her, as if she was standing in front of him, as a little girl that was still innocent but not untouched by the realities of life. To some extent she had always been his Meredith. A sudden feeling of hopelessness led him to bring one hand up to his brow. He closed his eyes to a world that tilted in an unnatural way and that fell out of focus and beyond recognition. What had he been thinking? What was he doing standing here in his white coat? What he needed was rest. What he wanted was a short moment for himself, maybe an even longer one.

„Dr. . . . Dr. Webber?", a slender, pale curly head in light-blue scrubs had come up to the former chief of surgery and seemed nervous. He held onto a patient's chart for dear life and had the brown big eyes of a deer that had been surprised by specifically bright headlights. Judging from his next declaration, the boy was obviously still wet behind the ears and dumber than expected. „There's a woman in the waiting room. She said she would sue us if I don't treat her right away. But it's not her . . . turn? Can she do it? Sue us, I mean?"

Richard looked at him in disbelief and was, hands on hips, about to launch into a short but effective speech about how he was – specially today and especially right now – not at all interested in this kind of kid's stuff which mister curly should be able to take care of himself if he planned to survive in this hospital, when another resident, who seemed to also be having something utterly important on his mind, joined the two of them.

„Dr. Webber", began this broad-shouldered and tall species with far more self-confidence than his colleague would ever be able to obtain. This young man was already wearing the long operation-gown and a scrub cap. „We have an appendectomy due and no free OR."

„Dr. Webber!", an outraged blonde with a crimson face had suddenly become number three of this needy group of doctors. She seemed to be familiar with the whole situation and had probably already led heated discussions about it. „It is impossible for Dr. Stark to postpone his surgery!" She glanced angrily at the tall one and repeated: „Impossible!"

„Dr. Webber", this fourth time it was Alex Karev who called his name. He appeared desperate despite his affords to hide his desperation behind his anger. „I need to do something. Just give me something to do, anything."

Richard darted an irritated look at each one of them. They just showed him their most expectant expressions in response. What did they want from him? And why did they want it now? His temper prevailed here over his panic and the concerns about Meredith as he spoke: „I am not chief of surgery anymore. Go to Dr. Hunt, he's in charge, not me."

Ever since his resignation Webber had enjoyed lounging in the irreversible respect of his colleagues. In fact, he thought it flattering that people still liked to call him the chief even though – at least on paper – he was not. He still liked to spread a little advice and wisdom now and then and often without being asked to. Today, though, he was glad not having to bear any responsibility.

„B-but ", stammered mousy curly head with real fear in his voice. „Dr. Hunt has excused himself? He said you would take care of everything in his absence." It sounded like an apology. The others nodded in affirmative agreement.

„He did what?!", returned Richard, his voice growing louder while he saw his anticipated moment of rest fading away. „He said I would what?!"

* * *

April had reached the end of her strength. There was a very high probability that her colleagues and friends, who had been sent to Boise for an important and honourable task, had died in a plane crash. This realisation hit her so hard and so sudden that it flooded her eyes with tears again. That all of this could happen under the eyes of her god presented her with an unsolvable mystery.

Dr. Kepner rushed blindly through the halls of the hospital whose winding paths were all too familiar to her. She could not assign the blurry faces she passed to any real person but she could feel the glances inquisitively following her steps. No-one held her back or inquired after her wellbeing. She did not have many friends and had made a lot of enemies with her very peculiar way of doing things and of how she presented herself in certain situations.

Her feet had been carrying April of their own accord to the unconsciously chosen aim of her escape. She wiped her fingers across her wet cheeks, took one deep breath and pushed open the door she was now standing in front of and which she closed behind her again after carefully entering the room. Her searching glance quickly found to the man in the hospital bed and she smiled sadly. She then came up to him and sat down on a chair beside the patient.

„Oh, George", she finally said with a husky voice while she put her hands together in her lap before faithfully folding them. „Today I can't just pray for you."

* * *

**END NOTE.** So, if you made it to the end and you like it please leave a comment (: Thanks!


	2. 9x01 Regarding Death and Dying part2

**PLOT. **This FF starts were season 8 left off. There will be three-part episodes. Lexie Grey is dead but certainly not forgotten in this story. I love her character and I thought about this for some time but after looking around a bit it felt like there were already too many "Lexie did not die"-stories out there. However, there will be one character brought back from the dead and a few adjustments will have to be made for that - but don't worry, it won't be too confusing. Plus, some familiar faces will return and with some I mean four. I might have to let go of other characters but I won't know for certain until I get there. If I have to, there's always a chance that they'll return.

**NOTE. **This is me practicing my English skills.I'm from Austria (no NOT Australia, we don't have kangaroos). This means that English is NOT my first language. Be prepared for possible mistakes in grammar and vocabulary - I deeply apologise for all of them. Feel free to correct - I'm here to improve! If you like this story and you feel like you could/want to BETA it, I'd be delighted to hear from you as I do believe that I might need some help to improve the reading flow. I hope my writing is not too embarrassing (feeling a bit insecure here)!

**NOTE2. **If German is your first language, take a look at the German version of this FF.

**THANK YOU.** Thank you so much for reviewing and following this story! It means a lot! This time I tried to not experiment too much with new words as I realise now that some words just don't fit, regardless of how much I want them to. So I stuck mainly to voc that's more familiar to me. Hopefully it worked. (Yet, I cannot help but experiment a little bit - sorry ;-)) This part is shorter than the first one but the third part will be a quiet long one. Hope you enjoy! x

Oh, and Drwyatt: yes, it is George and he is very much alive :)

* * *

**9.01 Regarding Death and Dying (2/3)**  
(named after a song by Dan Mangan)

**Sneak Peek**  
_Meredith, Derek, Mark, Arizona and Cristina are still fighting for their lives _  
_while the others are trying to cope with the news of the crash._

* * *

It was, even for Seattle, strangely cold outside, which was perhaps down to the fact that she was clad in her bathing gown and under that in slightly too revealing lingerie. Some of the people that Callie Torres had run passed already had, at her sight, probably hoped that she would arrive in still one piece at the door of the nearest mental institution. Yet, nobody was volunteering to personally help the poor creature as it was a well known fact that madness could be contagious. She wore, to her unusual appearance, shoes on her feet despite not remembering how and when she had put them on. The walk from the flat to the hospital seemed unending. She was almost surprised when she finally rushed through the doors. In the entrance hall she stood still for a moment while her thoughts were racing round her head. Once she noticed the curious glances of a few bystanders, she pulled her gown a little closer around her lightly clad body. Someone even whistled approvingly from a corner, another one jeered. Callie ignored them both. Then she saw Richard Webber standing in his scrubs in front of one of the elevators across the room. He seemed anxious, unsettled and exhausted, but he still, somehow, had this aura of strength and certitude surrounding him. Without hesitation Callie impatiently led her steps towards him. She was determined to attain further information about every little thing concerning the plane crash. She was on a mission and no-one could stop her.

"Dr. Webber!", she called, even before she arrived at her chosen destination. He would not escape her.

Richard allowed himself one short moment of hesitation. Today's night had thoroughly taught him what exactly it was that he did not dreadfully miss about not being chief anymore. Everyone appeared to relentlessly want something from him, and everyone considered their own concerns to be the most important of all. His head hurt. His anxiety was growing up to hitherto unknown heights. He deserved some rest, but people relied on him and his competencies, and he, therefore, accepted his fate with his head held high, regardless of how difficult it proved to be. He, thus, despite having reasonable reservations, turned around to Torres who had already come to halt behind him. However, instead of those calming and compassionate words that Richard had priorly prepared himself to say, he said nothing at all as the sight that greeted him now had left him speechless.

Callie's hasty tongue, too, preferred to deviate from the actual plan of staying focused and strong by letting go of a wild torrent of words: "Arizona and Mark were on that plane. My wife and the father of my child were on that plane. And Cristina was on that plane. Do you hear me? They were all on that plane. All three of them. And that plane . . . it crashed! It just crashed. Can you tell me how I'm supposed to survive, should one of them . . .? What if Cristina or Mark or . . ." Her voice was trembling now and tears flooded her dark eyes: "What if something happened to Arizona? I got all dressed up for her. You know? I'm extra hot and sexy just for her and that's not an easy thing to do after a long, hard day at work. But that's not the point. The point is: What if I'll never be able to be extra hot and sexy for her?"

"I know it's hard", began Richard after finding his way back to his voice. He decided to not directly answer to her questions as they seemed to be of a very private nature and because any reply to them would have made him rather uncomfortable. "It is hard. But until we know the specifics, . . . waiting and hoping is all we can do at the moment."

"But . . . I can't wait!", panicked Dr. Torres. She had not expected such a lack of knowing. Without knowing, she could not do anything. If she could not do anything, she did not have a mission anymore. And without a mission, she would have too much time at hand to think up the worst possible case. "You don't know anything? Nothing?"

„Nothing", confirmed Dr. Webber her biggest fear and he unsettled himself by doing so. Yet, he also added with confidence: "Which is why we can still hope."

* * *

It was well after midnight and they were still up in the air for it had cost time making calls. It had cost time getting out of his office and to his truck at the parking lot in front of the hospital. Teddy's attempts of keeping him off his plans had cost time. Every step, every thought and every breath of air had cost time. There was a high price to be paid for time when running against death.

Back at the hospital he had, after waking from his frozen state, personally resolved every important matter as taut as possible. He had not accepted a "No" or a "You can't do that", because he could and he would find his wife. He would not stop looking for her until he held her safely in his arms. Wallowa National Forest. That was the place where it all had supposedly happened. That was where he had to be. Owen already knew about the helicopters that were, right at this moment, flying over numerous trees. He knew of the rescue team cutting their way afoot through strains and bushes. He knew they would not give up until every missing person was found – dead or alive. He also, still, knew that missing did not mean dead. Missing meant missing.

Teddy was sitting next to him. She observed her friend while his blue eyes were directed towards the blackness outside the small window to his right. Letting him go on his own had never been an option. It was very disconcerting how secure he seemed to be in his assumption that he would find Cristina. It might, on the one hand, be good for him not to instantly panic, but, on the other hand, Dr. Altman was painfully aware of what would happen should the success he was striving for not find its way to him. Owen Hunt would fall. He would fall hard and he would never, not even with help, be able to stand tall again. In order to remind him that he was not alone, Teddy carefully laid one hand on his hand that was resting on the arm of his chair. He, however, did hardly feel a thing.

* * *

Cristina decided to grant her friend a moment or two at the side of her just awoken husband and, for that purpose, removed herself from the warming fire place. It was time to check on her patients' health anway. Plus, another round of "pack your suitcase" would have only driven her out of her already scarce mind. Seeking for some kind of warmth she shoved the hand of her good arm into one pocket of her jacket. Then she cast a quick glance through the cool darkness towards Robbins and Sloan. The two of them were sat and lain at their own fire in whose orange embers they gazed as if they were searching for answers to their unspoken queries, or for hope. Just a few steps to her left, Cristina could hear Meredith saying calming words to Derek. She instantly felt even more alone. Owen wandered her world of thought again and she allowed herself one short moment of imagining his arms wrapped around her body, his voice at her ear, his scent in her nose, and the beating of his heart under her hand. When the moment was over she shook it off again and shoved it far off and away from her. She was a bit angry and almost furious with herself. She had put things with Owen to an end. She had put a lid on the two of them. She had been ready to move on and, in the best case, to never look back at what she left behind. One stupid plane crash would not interfere with her plan that easily. She would, because dying was not an option for her, survive and she would be saved. She would go to Mayo and stay with the plan, and screw that lid on tighter.

„Cristina!", just as Dr. Yang risked a glance at the married couple cowering beside her on the forest floor a sudden outcry marked the end of her deliberations. Meredith looked up in surprise and to her friend who, after another "Cristina!" and the initial moment of shock, quickly turned around and followed Dr. Robbin's call to the plane-wreck. Sloan, she thought to herself for she was well aware of his critical state. First Lexie and now Sloan. However, when she had reached her destination, Mark, too, was expecting her in his lying position and he seemed, despite the emptiness in his eyes and the paleness of his face, responsive and very much alive. Cristina looked at him in confusion as he suddenly reminded her of Owen. Behind her she could hear Meredith stumbling closer.

„It's Jerry", breathlessly gasped Arizona Robbins and she effectively received Dr. Yang's attention, even though it was not entirely unshared yet.

„Who?", asked Cristina slightly absent because the name was strange to her. Why did Mark Sloan remind her of Owen Hunt? The lid was screwed on tight. Nothing should remind her of Owen Hunt anymore. Then she saw the expression in Robbin's face. She did not like how scared she looked. Being scared meant that you threw the towel, and Cristina Yang would not throw anything, especially not towels.

"Jerry", repeated Arizona with a trembling and exhausted voice. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. "The pilot. He isn't answering anymore. Just before we were talking and know . . . he isn't answering anymore."

Right. The pilot. Without speaking another word Cristina staggered inside the demolished interior of the severed cockpit. In the process she steadied herself with one hand while she tried to ignore the pain that she felt when her hurt shoulder hit against a side wall. Jerry was sitting upright in his seat with his head supportingly secured at the backrest and his eyes closed as if he had fallen asleep.

„Is he dead?", asked Meredith who must have by now arrived at the scene as well. It sounded like she knew the answer to her inquiry already.

Expecting the worst Cristina put her fingers to the non-existent pulse at the neck of the pilot. "Damnit", she said to herself and lowered her head. Only then she gave a quick reply: "He's dead."

* * *

What an idiot. Alex had been following him around like some faithful mutt through half the hospital already, yet, Dr. Robert Stark was still not willing to assign the young doctor his requested work. Did he not understand that it was important to do something? It was impossible for Karev to now sit in a corner and just twiddle his thumbs. A plain might have fallen from the sky but life went on, kids got sick – there had to be something that he could do.

„Listen", as usual Stark was slightly annoyed and his impatience grew as he spoke. He pulled a bored face, sighed heavily at the obvious stupidity of his inferior and generously lunged out to his final words: "I'm going to say this one more time: You are not on duty. We have already provided well enough for our very moderate number of patients. Now, go home. Live your life. Lie down. Dream sweet dreams. Good night."

As Dr. Stark headed off and, with a patient's chart in hand, round the next corner, Alex would have probably followed him through the other half of the hospital as well if he had not, right then, incidentally discovered a hunched figure on a chair in a waiting room. Guilt reached out for Dr. Karev and transformed into panic as it got hold of him. He hesitated, took one step forward, turned on his heels and bolted after all.

* * *

„Amen", concluded Dr. Kepner another one of her quietly murmured prayers. Hesitantly she put one of her hands on George's arm. The patient was lying calmly in his bed, untouched by the terror of the misfortune that had befallen his friends. April had spent many hours sat at his side like that before but she still struggled with directly looking at and really touching him. After all she was the reason for his current state. She had made him like that. Her bottom lip started to quiver again as tears found their way down her face. Suddenly the door to the room was pushed open and she started up from a sitting to a standing position.

"Altman called", explained Jackson his unannounced visit with a few simple words. It had become a matter of course to first of all look for his friend in O'Malley's room and most of the time he also found her there. "Her and Hunt just arrived in Boise. They're now searching for survivors."

April nodded sadly and sat down again. Dr. Avery followed her example, pulled a chair close to hers and weakly took his seat. His whole body collapsed as he briefly buried his face in his hands. Then he looked up with clouded eyes and spoke: "I feel so . . . useless."

Dr. Kepner, who was well acquainted with that kind of feeling, knew nothing to say in return. She just took the arm of her friend that was next to her, put her own arms around it and laid her head on his shoulder.

* * *

**END NOTE. **Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think :) Next chap is the last one of this episode!


	3. 9x01 Regarding Death and Dying part3

**PLOT. **This FF starts were season 8 left off. There will be three-part episodes. Lexie Grey is dead but certainly not forgotten in this story. I love her character and I thought about this for some time but after looking around a bit it felt like there were already too many "Lexie did not die"-stories out there. However, there will be one character brought back from the dead and a few adjustments will have to be made for that - but don't worry, it won't be too confusing. Plus, some familiar faces will return and with some I mean four. I might have to let go of other characters but I won't know for certain until I get there. If I have to, there's always a chance that they'll return.

**NOTE. **This is me practicing my English skills.I'm from Austria (no NOT Australia, we don't have kangaroos). This means that English is NOT my first language. Be prepared for possible mistakes in grammar and vocabulary - I deeply apologise for all of them. Feel free to correct - I'm here to improve! If you like this story and you feel like you could/want to BETA it, I'd be delighted to hear from you as I do believe that I might need some help to improve the reading flow. I hope my writing is not too embarrassing (feeling a bit insecure here)!

**NOTE2. **If German is your first language, take a look at the German version of this FF.

**THANK YOU.** Thank you so much for reviewing and following this story! It means a lot!

* * *

**9.01 Regarding Death and Dying (3/3)  
**(named after a song by Dand Mangan)  
**  
****Sneak Peek**  
_Meredith, Derek, Mark, Arizona and Cristina are still fighting for their lives _  
_while the others are trying to cope with the news of the crash._

* * *

Alex was not a coward. He did not run from problems but confronted them often with his fists held up high. Yet, sometimes he needed one short moment to gather himself and his raging thoughts, so that he was then able to go to war with new strength. Tonight he chose a small, deserted supply room for that purpose. He had locked the door behind him and now ran his searching glance in impatient haste over the well-stocked shelves. After all so far there had no battle been won without the right and necessary equipment.

„Come on", he angrily urged himself to a faster find. Then, finally, he was rewarded with success, and, not missing a beat, he took it and stepped back outside and into the hall way before he could come to a different decision.

He went at a quick pace but lost momentum and assurance with every other step that brought him closer to the seated figure that he had turned his back on in the waiting room. He was relieved and also slightly nervous to find that Callie Torres had not stirred from her seat. Soon he wordlessly sat down next to her while hiding his true feelings behind an inexpressive face. Callie did not look up or signified in any other way that she had noticed his presence. She was too caught up in staring at her hands resting in her lap and holding onto an already sufficiently abused tissue. Alex examined her more intently. She seemed lost. It was obvious that she had been crying as her before so carefully applied makeup now displayed the trails of her tears, and her eyes as well as her nose were red and slightly swollen. Only her hair-dress of black, shiny strands had stayed as perfect as it was supposed to be. Karev now made short work of handing Dr. Torres the bundle he had obtained from the supply shelves minutes ago. He received Callie's attention and astonishment in exchange.

„The outfit. . .", explained Alex with a tentative, crooked smile as he was pointedly taking in the silk bath robe that was hardly able to cover her bare legs. „. . . hot. Maybe too hot for here."

Just then a blond-curled toddler's forefinger found its way to Callie as the child was led by at his mother's hand with a gaping mouth. This seemed to be enough to prove his point. Callie, therefore, thankfully reached out for the offered nurses' clothes that might not exactly comply with her personal colour preference but would still serve the purpose.

„I'm sorry", added Alex quickly just as Torres rose from her seat in order to withdraw to more private surroundings to change. He did not look at her directly but she could see how ill at ease he felt and how much he struggled to forgive himself. „That Robbins took my place on that plane. I'm sorry that happened."

He was especially lucky that, despite all the fears and desperation that stirred her insides and robbed her strength, Callie knew precisely what was the right thing to say: „It's not your fault, Karev."

* * *

In a slight daze Meredith found her way on her own from the plane wreckage back to the fire place where Derek was awaiting her return. With every step she took she left Arizona's uncontrollable sobbing, Cristina's enervated replies and Mark's unsettling silence a little farther behind. The fast movement brought back the pain in her leg but she did not dare to admit to her ordeal. He had already heaved himself up from a lying into a sitting position, when she finally sat down next to her husband.

„Is Mark . . .", began Derek, for Meredith remained silent. He was scared.

„He's alive", assured him his wife quickly and she thereby took away one part of his fear.

„Good", Dr. Shepherd let himself sink weakly to the floor again. His throat was dry, the hunger and the cold were unbearable, but this one thing was good and allowed him to come to some peace.

Dr. Grey followed his example, and she lay down and her head on his chest with her body seamlessly fit into his. She was almost home. She waited until her breathing conformed to his before she tiredly but also with clear urgency spoke again: „Promise me that you won't die. You have to promise me that you'll live."

Derek kissed her lightly on her crown and gave a simple reply: „I won't die if you won't."

* * *

Owen did not know how long he had been hurrying over the surprisingly boisterous forest floor and past the trees that were tall, unmovable obstacles in his way. The only thing he knew for certain was that he could not stand still because he had already lost too much of that precious time. He had also seen no need to change from his working clothes, and had instead just slipped on a more functional pair of shoes. In addition, he had pulled his tie from around his neck and put on a jacket that would keep him warm. In one hand he held a flashlight, in the other a walkie-talkie that stayed alarmingly quiet. Teddy had not left his side but she did scarcely speak to him as she knew that she would probably not receive an answer and also because she feared to provoke the panic that he had, as of yet, so successfully put in its place.

Everything around him was far away and too close at the same time, ear-splittingly loud and unbearably silent. There were no words for the kind of fear that he felt. Faster and faster it drove him forth but it was still not fast enough. The night played tricks on him, beckoned him here and there in a random manner whenever he believed to have heard or seen something in the darkness. A gnarled root that had broken the surface and now gasped for air almost brought him down but Teddy caught him in his fall.

„You ok?", she asked while he pushed her away and proceeded forward already again.

No. Nothing was ok. Everything was in chaos: his feelings, his thoughts, his doing and his life, the future that he had envisioned in his dreams, and the past that he had not always wanted. Who was he without Cristina? How could he be if she was not anymore?

Then, just as the next morning cautiously started to dawn, his searching glance discovered something that made him forget everything else, everything except for his wife. Stumbling, Owen instantly broke into a staggering run. It was just a part of a machine that caught the first rays of sunlight and that revealed itself like that amidst the forest, but it was evident in an absolute way that this part had once belonged to an airplane. The major almost expected his find to go up in smoke with his approach because hope had left him earlier that night. Yet, it did stay and the closer he got the bigger his fear grew. As soon as he had reached his aim he wildly turned and turned around himself and to every side with a raging heart but without any success. Teddy, who had followed him, fell down on her knees beside the wreckage.

„Oh no. You poor thing", she sadly spoke to the young woman who lay buried beneath the plane. „Owen!", she raised her voice to her friend who then stood still and looked at her. Fear was written in his face. „It's Lexie Grey. She's dead."

* * *

Before leaving the scene of the crash the twisted sisters had placed Derek Shepherd according to his wish next to Mark Sloan. No-one of the three doctors that where now left behind could have told the time but the hesitant retreat of the darkness suggested the dawning of the day. This was an astounding discovery fort hey had not prepared themselves for the possibility of another morning in their lives.

Mark lay on his back with Arizona positioned on his one side and his childhood friend on his other when he realised that he could not feel anything anymore, neither the cold that had plagued him in the night nor the pain in his chest. I'm tired, he thought as the clouds took shape above his lying figure. I'm so tired and the dream was a good dream.

„Mark", he heard Derek's coarse, weak voice at his ear. „You have to stay awake."

Stay awake? Sleep had gotten to them all, it had taken one after the other sometime last night, and they had all woken up again despite the small possibility for that to happen. He just wanted to dream a little while longer. He was tired and the dream was a good dream. That had to be alright. Just a while longer, a little while longer.

„That's a beautiful house", said Mark quietly and completely out of context. He slowly closed his eyes and dove deeper.

„Think about Sofia", implored Arizona and she took his cold hand that rested uselessly next to her on the forest floor. „Do you hear me? Please, Mark. Think about Sofia. She needs you. She needs her dad." She started to cry again.

„Children", he now thought to remember. He was at peace. The voices receded into distance. „Right, the children."

„Mark. . .", tried Derek again.

„I don't know . . .", was the irritating reply he received.

„Mark! Please . . .", desperately begged Arizona.

". . . if I can do that . . ."

* * *

„We're lost", Meredith Grey stated the obvious. She shakily held herself upright with a stick she had found before and now stood still to recover her breath again. From the start it had been a rather thoughtless idea to march blindly into the woods just because they had talked themselves into believing that, with the plane, there had to have food fallen from the sky as well. This thought had given them just the right amount of hope though, and so they had been tempted to a sudden departure – and now the twisted sisters were going to die out here.

„We're going to die out here", announced the blonde to her friend in arising despair

Cristina, who had, urged on by broad-shouldered, red-haired demons, stolidly moved forward, turned around and came back and up to her companion. She would not allow anyone to surrender. She was not ready for that.

„No-one's going to die", she said firmly, and she framed the pallid face of her friend with one hand.

„Jerry died", she was reminded by Meredith who then struggled with tears again as the next words already left a bitter taste on her tongue. „And Lexie. She died." It sounded so strange and unnatural to say it out loud, and she felt a hole opening up inside of her – a hole that she would never be able to mend again. Her sister was dead. Her sister.

Cristina took one step back as she suddenly realised the actual extent of their misery. „Right", she murmured, unsure now, what to do or to say. „I am so . . ."

„Don't", interrupted Meredith hastily. She caught the tears with her hands from her cheeks. Would it ever come to an end? The pain? The emptiness? She took one deep breath: „Tell me something."

„Ok", Cristina hesitated despite her quick agreement. „What do you want to hear?"

„Anything", was the not very specific command. Pleadingly Meredith sought the direct eye contact with her friend. She just wanted to not think of Lexie Grey any longer. „Anything", she stressed her plead again.

Cristina, however, still hesitated as talking about her own problems appeared trivial when compared to the grieve over the death of a family member. Nevertheless, Meredith seemed adamant that she should do exactly that. She, therefore, decided to not put her friend on hold much longer: „I miss Owen." Her voice trembled. She had surprised herself with her confession and a slight hysteria resonated in the following words: „I can see him everywhere."

She knew that it sounded crazy but, after all, she had PTSD and that should be excuse enough for a little craziness. Meredith, who had not expected anything like that, could only stare at her, and Dr. Yang knew nothing better to do than to stare right back. Too late she realised that she had dared to advance onto very thin ice for her friend did not think that highly of major Hunt and his recently revealed infidelity. Of course it still hurt to be reminded of her husband's affair but the possibility to never see, hear or touch him again held such a fear as she had never known before. Almost instinctively she turned that fear into anger.

„He's everywhere!", she resumed accusingly while raking her fingers through her wildly locked hair. "Inside my head. Behind every tree. Behind all the bushes. He's even Mark Sloan!" Frustrated she threw her good hand into the air as her voice started to trip: „And the lid! I really screwed that damn lid on tight. But he with his huge . . . hands . . . He thinks he can just . . . I should hate him. Why? Why does he make it so hard for me to hate him?"

She abruptly fell silent again. Not because her twisted sister seemed especially worried and irritated and ready to slap her back to reason but because she thought that it was already too late for her sanity to return. She soon expressed this thought in anew frustration: „And now I can even hear him!"

Meredith, however, appeared to have forgotten Cristina's wordily outburst and just shook her head in astonished disbelief: „I can hear him too." Then, finally, the only thing that was left to do was to fall into momentary relief and to smile and to laugh amid her tears.

* * *

It was bright and it was colourful. The colours were luscious, almost too pure to be real. The sky was sky-blue and the grass was grass-green and the chestnuts were chestnut-brown. He bent down and picked a specially round and shiny fruit up from the floor, and while running his fingers over the smooth surface he was overcome by a feeling of familiarity. What did it remind him of? He did not know how he had come to that place. He also did not know why and where this place was. He did not feel any pain and that was good.

He looked up when he heard someone calling his name and the sight that greeted him now provided an answer to at least one of his queries: It was her hair. Her hair was chestnut-brown. Her smile was wide and warm. Her dark eyes were full of life. Her skin was flawless, and she stood upright and unharmed on her feet. She wore the dress that flattered and emphasised her curves. She was barefoot and sexy, and she was fair and beautiful.

„Hello Mark", said Lexie Grey with a gentle, calm voice.

He said nothing in reply but only tried to look his fill though he did not expect to ever get tired of looking at her. He wanted more and more and evermore. He then made a discovery that stood behind her and seemed to invite him to step closer. He pointed at it: „That's a beautiful house."

Lexie spoke a simple explanation: „It's ours."

Only now he noticed the ring on her and another one on his own finger. He listened attentively to the noises coming from inside the building: laughter and the swift taping of very small feet on a wooden floor. For a moment he found himself confronted with another lack of knowledge. Soon after he understood again and he was at peace.

„Children", he muttered just to himself. „Right, the children."

„Shall we?", asked Lexie. She slightly turned towards the entrance door while speaking.

He was indecisive about his reply. He sensed that he failed to consider something really important that he must have forgotten at some point in time. What he finally said irritated him as it stood in such contrast to his actual desires: „I don't know if I can do that."

„It's very easy", he was heartily assured. „Here: take my hand."

* * *

**Song **

watch?v=m5QkAs1eC_0&feature=player_embedded#at=33

* * *

**Sneak Peek 9.02 Show Me Something New  
**_The crash turned many lives upside down. _  
_The doctors try to leave the past behind and to focus on the future._

* * *

**END NOTE. **I know it's not perfect but I tried my best ;) Please let me know what you think! And don't worry: there will be flashbacks to before the time-jump.


	4. 9x02 Show Me Something New part1

**NOTE. **English is not my first language! Beware of possible mistakes ;) If you're first language is German, have a look at the German version of this FF!

**THANK YOU. **Thank you so much for following! That means a lot :) But I would also love to read what you think about this story, so that I know that someone/anyone is really reading this. :)**  
**

* * *

******9.02 Show Me Something New (1/3)  
**(named after a song by Shout Out Louds) **  
**

******Sneak Peek  
**_The crash turned many lives upside down. _  
_The doctors try to leave the past behind and to focus on the future.____  
_

**********guest characters created by me  
**Matthew Fox as Dr. Kevin Jones

* * *

_Cristina led the way. She took one step after the other. Her arm was still lying in a sling and pressed at her body but it did not hurt anymore. She had even already complained about not being allowed to go straight back to work. The reasons that they had pointed up for her involuntary leave of absence, however, were of psychological rather than of physical nature, and she was not able to stand her ground over something like that. She now entered the living room and stood still for a moment while Owen carefully put down the bag that carried a small part of her life on the floor behind her. Since the crash he had been doing every little thing with care. When he talked to her he considered every word he spoke, he opened and closed doors for her whenever she entered or left a room, and he was very anxious to read all the requests from her lips before she could name him even one. At first it had been strange, than, at some point, it had somehow flattered her, and now his behaviour simply strained her nerves. Yet, she did not complain because she knew why he behaved in that way: He was afraid to lose her. And who could blame him? She herself did not know whether she would be staying._

_She missed the intimacy that had once bound them together and that, in the wake of the pain they had caused each other and because of the uncertainty that was now standing between them, she could not feel anymore. It was strange to be alone with him and to not know what to say to him or how she was expected to behave. That was why she was silent right now again as she was running her eyes over their mutual home. The blanket and the pillow on the sofa instantly attracted her attention._

_"I can sleep in a hotel", offered Owen who had not let her out of sight. He tried to read the expression on her face but seemed unsure in doing so. _

_"No", said Cristina. She did not look at him but, instead, still at his bed for the night. "It's good like that", she added without any clear evidence of an emotion and despite knowing that nothing about all of this really was good._

* * *

Meredith tucked the receiver between ear and shoulder, poured some milk in an especially large cup of coffee with her one hand and led a spoon to her daughter's mouth with the other while trying to still proceed talking to the person at the other end of the phone. She sat on a new chair at a new, shiny kitchen table in the new kitchen in their new house. Zola was seated in an also new high chair across from her and was not entirely convinced from the quality of today's breakfast. She protestingly imitated the sound that her beloved toy-lion at her side would have probably made had he come to life at right that moment and, after that, turned her head in a way that the eating utensil in use experienced an involuntary encounter with her right cheek.

"So I ask him: Why two plates?", resumed Dr. Grey her narration just as she put the despised spoon to her own lips in order to demonstrate to the rebellious little girl how "yummy" it all really was. Unfortunately it did not taste as "yummy" as she had hoped and she only just managed to draw a slightly tortured smile on her face to which she added a not very enthusiastic "mhhh"-sound. Then she spit in her cup and smiled a little more broadly before she spoke into the receiver again: "And he just says: I was hungry."

"So? He was hungry", returned Cristina rather indifferently. Other than her friend, Dr. Yang was already at work and reading in a patient's chart while a handful of residents eagerly awaited her choice of assistance for a highly interesting operation. This was exactly how she had imagined it to be after finally being able to wear the attendings' scrubs. She took a long, good look at this young, in her eyes not very talented new generation of doctors. They all seemed to have 007 tattooed onto their foreheads which did not exactly make it easier for her to come to a decision.

"He said it as if he was mocking me", attempted Meredith to explain herself and her anger. "In that tone and with that smile. You know, that I-am-pretty-smart McDreamy-smile."

"At least it's not an affair then", decided Cristina not beating about the bush. She closed the chart with a snap and signalised the residents to follow her through the hall ways.

"But if it's not an affair . . . Why does he have to make such a mystery out of it?", interposed the other twisted sister another concern. "Why can't he just tell me who it is?"

"Maybe he's embarrassed", assumed her friend shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe it's Shadow-Shepherd. That would be embarrassing."

As if on cue the "real" Shepherd entered the room and his wife did not waste any time to greet him with her newly acquired assumption: "Is it Shadow-Shepherd? Is that the reason why you're not telling me who it is?"

"Dr. Nelson", reminded Derek and he bent down to her and kissed her lightly. "And no, that's not the reason."

"But there is a reason", probed Meredith warily.

Dr. Shepherd hesitated, and then he was luckily saved by the ringing of the door bell. "Who could that be?", he asked rhetorically and turned away and, smiling innocently, to his daughter who joyously returned the smile with one of her own. She then looked on as Derek left the kitchen at a hurried pace to greet his early-morning visitors and to escape the further interrogation of his wife.

"And now?", spoke Dr. Grey with new frustration into the receiver. While she was waiting for an answer, she listened to the familiar voices of Dr. Bailey and Dr. Torres coming from the entrance hall.

Meanwhile Cristina had reached the operating room and she realised that she had to make a choice and she had to make it now. She sullenly let her glance wander over her crop of inferiors and randomly pointed at an especially pale individual. The others she dismissed to boring paperwork and patient rounds. In the following she handed out a last piece of advice to her friend: "If you really have to know. Just end work earlier today, go home and surprise him. If he's not been eating pizza with his special fantasy-friend, you should be able to catch him right in the act."

After that she quickly said her goodbyes before her twisted sister could even think about inquiring after her wellbeing and ended their conversation just like that.

Meredith, therefore, had no other choice than to sighingly put aside the receiver with an unspoken "And how is Mayo?" dissolving into the air. She turned to Zola and, again, applied herself to the task of feeding her little lion.

* * *

Dr. Miranda Bailey was not a fan of long-distance relationships and also not of long-distance marriage, if she was being entirely honest. Yet, right now, a long-distance wedding seemed like a quite tempting possibility. Although she tried very hard to show true interest in the dress, flowers and seating arrangements, she just did not succeed, not with all those patients that were waiting for her care and, also, not with the memories of her last wedding, a vision in white that turned rather black as the years flew by. The residents standing just a few steps away from her and huddling together in animated discussions provided a similarly welcome distraction. Where they even allowed taking a break like that in the middle of their shift? _She_ would certainly not endorse any kind of laziness.

"All I'm saying is that I had all of that before already", tried Dr. Bailey to conciliate her fiancé in their telephonic conversation. "And it did not end well."

While she was listening more or less intently to Ben's answer, she took one step closer to the giggling young doctors. Like children, she thought glancing at them indignantly and shaking her head. As if they were still at high school.

"What do you think", heard Bailey one of them say. "Why is Hunt so . . . well, the way he is?"

Miranda instantly started to listen more attentively to the following assumptions and could make out words like "embarrassing", "scary", "irresponsible" and "crazy". Eager nodding and further laughter went round. Bailey furrowed her brow in concern. She really hoped that she had misheard just now but it was a small hope. This was not okay, this was not okay at all.

"If we could just take it down a bit", she finally continued as she reluctantly attended to her actual conversational partner. Her glance, however, was still directed at those misbehaving residents and one ear was bent to their gossip. "Maybe just the two of us and a visit to the regist- . . . Yes, I know. I know, your mum . . ."

"I'd like to know how Hunt got to be chief", the starting signal given to a new guessing game at her right side, just then made her stop midsentence.

"Do you think he paid someone?", was the first move to be done.

"Maybe there were drugs involved", grinned someone throwing another possibility into the pot.

"Alcohol", agreed a young man appallingly enthusiastic. "Really good alcohol."

"Maybe he shagged someone from the board", a blonde Barbie-doll suddenly joined in the fiery discussion. The others fell silent and looked at her in surprise. "What?", Blondie simply shrugged her shoulders. "His wife had to have some kind of reason for leaving him."

"Enough!", interjected Bailey angrily. Her conversation with Ben was forgotten; she still held the phone in her hand but not at her ear anymore. "Enough of that! Dr. Hunt is a good chief and a great surgeon. You should be ashamed of yourself – all of you! Keep your snoopy noses out of other people's affairs and in your own problems. Surely it's not too hard for you to dream up a few of those. And make yourself useful! No patient has ever been cured by standing around and doing nothing!"

Dr. Bailey did not deign to raise her voice again when the young ladies and gentlemen, frozen in their initiate shock, did not immediately "make themselves useful" as ordered. She, instead, put on an unmistakable Dr. Miranda Bailey face which spoke volumes without words and could have persuaded anyone to anything. The residents did not withstand for long and scattered hurriedly away in various directions as if they had just now discovered a hornet's nest at their feet. No-one dared to look her in the eye or to argue with her instruction, and a few probably even held their breath until they were at a safe distance from the fire-spitting attending-dragon. Only Blondie did not seem to know how to stay in line as she murmured something that sounded like "madhouse". Unfortunately Bailey, who had a fairly impressive reply ready on the tip of her tongue, had no chance to speak her rebuke as she abruptly remembered her fiancé again.

"Oh . . . Oh!", she quickly put the phone back to her ear. Ben's patience must have shrunken by now to the smallest minimum. "Ben? No. No, I'm fine. It's just . . . I have to go. We . . . We talk later, ok? Ok." She pressed the tiny red button to end their conversation, took one deep breath of air and said one last time a not very convictive: "Ok."

* * *

_Her mouth was dry. It hurt to breathe but at least she was able to breathe on her own. She also felt pain in every joint of her body which must mean that she was not dead. She kept her eyes closed for a while. She felt the mattress beneath and the blanket on her tired self. She assumed that she had left the forest although she could not remember how and when that had happened. Because she feared to be dreaming she only opened her lids slowly and very carefully as if she expected to wake up and to be surrounded by trees and moss yet again. She was lucky: as she let her gradually clearing glance wander about she could see white walls, a door made of light wood, a window, and, seated on a chair at her side, Callie Torres._

_"You're awake", said Callie her welcome with relief in her voice that sounded of tears. Also, by looking at her face it became evident that she had been crying. The paleness of her skin and the dark circles around her eyes suggested that she had scarcely slept last night. Arizona felt the urge to apologise to her but she reliased just in time what an absurd impression an apology would make in her current position._

_"Hey", she returned instead in a weak whisper. Then she made an unusual discovery, and she continued, bewildered by the surprising sight: "What are you wearing?" _

_Caught off-guard by this question Callie looked at her own appearance and noted the nurses' clothes she had put on many eternities ago in an on-call room in the Seattle Grace–Mercy West Hospital._

_"That's a long story", she tried to explain herself. "No, it's actually a short one."_

_"You have to tell me that story", said Arizona. She could feel how she grew more and more tired with every word she spoke. "But not right now", she decided. When she was about to close her eyes again she remembered something that made her heartbeat race: "My leg?"_

_Callie hesitated but it could be already read in her face that she had hoped not having to answer this particular question any time soon._

* * *

" Arizona!", called Callie who had spotted her wife at the end of the hallway on whose beginning she stood.

"Hey, Arizona!", she tried again for Dr. Robbins' attention as she was already hurrying after her. There was no need for Callie, however, to run this fast because Arizona only took one careful step slowly after the other. Like always it hurt to see her like that: fragile and helpless, and too stubborn to accept any help at all. After Callie had caught up with her she put one hand on her shoulder so that they both could stand still and talk for a moment. It seemed almost as if she had interrupted her wife's thoughts a bit too abruptly.

"Oh, Hey!", returned a startled Arizona. She appeared sad for the short duration of one fleeting second before she quickly drew a smile on her pretty face. It was only just able to reach up to her gentle, blue eyes.

"So, what did Hunt say?", enquired Callie dutifully while she was trying to decide whether the smile was of real honesty or if she had to better take it in with caution. The numerous possible answers to her question had already been causing a similar headache.

"I'll start next week", announced Dr. Robbins in a way that did not to allow contrariety.

"Really?", exclaimed Dr. Torres a little too horrified. She hastily tried for betterment in her tone: „I mean: Really! Yay . . ."

"That didn't sound very excited . . .", commented Arizona with a now fading smile.

"Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no I am very excited for you! You're back! That's great", Callie did her best to soothe the waters between them although she was yes, yes, yes, yes, yes not excited at all.

"Are you sure?", doubted her wife reading her mind correctly. "That wasn't a very convincing yay. And that, just now, were way too many nos."

"Alright, maybe I'm also a little bit concerned. Just a little bit", Dr. Torres demonstrated the size of her concern by putting together thumb and forefinger. She lowered her voice and spoke with a sting of conscience: "And to be honest: I don't really trust Hunt's decision making lately. . . "

"But you can trust me", assured Dr. Robbins who put on another smile to underline her words. Her voice had this joyous tone that reminded of better times. "And I say: I'm ready. I've got tiny baby-animals and elves on my cane, and little Emily from 102 promised to sponsor a couple of glittery hearts. Hearts that glitter, Calliope!"

"I know what glittery hearts are", interjected Torres impatiently. She did not let herself be fooled too easily by this slightly exaggerated enthusiasm and preferred to remain concerned for a while longer.

"I am ready", Arizona was not to be deterred. "And it's just going to be really simple stuff. No long hours in the OR. Not even short ones. Just consults, administrative work . . . It's really not a big deal. It just means that I won't be sitting at home anymore doing nothing."

Callie had many reservations regarding Dr. Robbins' return but she hesitated to speak up as she did not want to pick a quarrel under the judging eyes of her colleagues. She observed her wife intently, tried to see behind the curtain of her cheerful charade and was surprisingly interrupted by the sudden peeping and buzzing of her pager. She sighed heavily and took a brief look at the impolite device.

"I have to go", she said and while she turned away and left she did not know whether it was relief or regret that prevailed.

Arizona, who gazed after her, experienced the same incertitude as her smile faded more and more until it had disappeared entirely from her face.

* * *

„So you think I should do it?", inquired Meredith after she had told her friend and colleague at length about Cristina's devious plan. The two of them were, clad in their dark-blue scrubs, on their way to George's to take their morning break as usual in form of a snack at the bedside of thei friend.

"Sure", was Alex' monosyllabic reply. He had spoons and yogurt ready and seemed eager to eat.

Dr. Grey decided, for no particular reason, that he was right: „You're right. I'll do it."

"Great", agreed Dr. Karev. He knew better than to say more and risk to incite his friend to changing her mind yet again. He had problems of his own to deal with.

"Ok." Now that this matter was resolved Meredith thought it was time to change the subject: "How are things going with my house?"

"_My_ house", emphasised Alex just as the aim of their purpose came in sight. This kind of confusion had not happened for the first time and it would definitely happen again. "It's going well."

"I still can't believe that you bought it", these words too were often spoken between them. "I always thought you were more this modern . . . cool type, and my mum's house is . . . definitely not cool. More, well, old and huge. Jep, old and huge. You're going to have to take in a few strays to fill all those rooms." Remembering old times she now warned knowingly: "At first you don't want them too but then they will all move in before you can spell 'no' quick enough: cute guys who are madly in love with you, blonde, gorgeous models who are baking muffins all night, and . . ."

"Alright! Relax", interrupted Alex abruptly as he put his hand to the handle of the door. "I have my reasons. And they are good reasons."

"You have to tell me what those reasons are . . .", began Meredith but as they entered the room it quickly became evident that a certain someone was already present and so she found herself forced to stop without properly ending her sentence. She automatically turned to Alex who took a brief look at the person sitting on a chair next to George. Not speaking another word and only with a silent apology in his glance directed at Dr. Grey he turned away and bolted.

"Are you two still not talking?", scolded Meredith irritated by the behaviour of her friend. "That has to change, Izzie!"

* * *

**END NOTE.** Hope it was readable. :) x


End file.
